Gift of Perfection
by Ydream08
Summary: Daphne learns that she is a far cry from perfect. No one is. Not even Harry Potter. A glance at his out-of-control hair and stupid bravery is enough of proof, anyway.


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

**A\N:** This was written for the **2019 ****Death By Quill **competition, First Round prompt (themed "Mirror Magic" with the pairing HP/DG) of the Facebook group, _The Slytherin Cabal. _**I WAS UNABLE TO FINISH THIS STORY AND FAILED TO SUBMIT IT **(It ended up surpassing the word limit of 3K, too).

I would like to thank the admins of the competition for their understanding and effort. They are organizing a wonderful event, and I really wanted to participate but real life got in the way :(

**THE COMPETITION IS ONGOING, **and there are many more marvellous stories already submitted so you can check them on AO3 and support the authors :D

* * *

**Gift of Perfection**

_by Ydream08_

* * *

The platform was lively, people rushing about, shouting their love and goodbyes, various magical pets hooting, meowing and making noise for attention, all the while the one and only Hogwarts Express intermittently called for departure.

Daphne Greengrass, whose trunk was being placed in a train compartment by her house elf, excitedly stood by her father. She was struggling to keep her elegant poise to which a smile tugged at her father's lips: a rare occurrence.

"Papa, where are the Parkinsons? I don't want to be late to board the train. I can't miss my first year!" Daphne hardly liked Pansy Parkinson as the other girl made fun of her for no reason at all. It was either Daphne's blonde hair tied with a different coloured bow or her tall height that Pansy joked about. Regardless, the Parkinsons were family friends.

"Hush, Daphne. They will be here at any moment," her mother chided her. Daphne blushed. She wished she could squeeze her sister Astoria's hand, but they weren't allowed to hold hands out in the public. "Ah, here they come!"

Her mother crouched, something very unladylike, but her smile was the warmest Daphne had ever seen. Her mother was beautiful with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Daphne wasn't like her. Sometimes she fancied that her own clear blue eyes resembled her mother's, but no, her rich blonde hair was much like her father's, distinguishing her as the Greengrass she was.

"Listen to me, Daphne," her mother spoke. "You'll be good and well-mannered, fitting to your pure blood and proper upbringing. I don't want to hear any word from your Head of House, nor do I want to hear from any friend like the Parkinsons that you behave in any way less than the Greengrass name deserves.

"Here," her mother reached to take her small hand and Daphne felt the weight of a circular object in her palm. The cold metal dimmed Daphne's nerves, and the shining stones that adorned the object distracted her. It was beautiful.

Her mother opened the cover and revealed a two-sided mirror. Daphne could see her button nose and rosy cheeks. Shifting her head, she looked at her hair, thankfully still neatly tied with her bow. She had spent half an hour to get it right. This was the first time Daphne had done her hair on her own.

Closing the mirror, her mother patted her cheek. "Always look perfect, and be perfect. Understood?"

It was the perfect gift! Daphne nodded enthusiastically. "I understand. Thank you so much, Mother."

"Daphne!" came the shrill voice of her friend, and only then did Daphne took notice of the Parkinson family coming over.

The parents exchanged greetings. Daphne did the mistake of showing her gift to Pansy, to which the girl replied, "Let me see! Oh, I look so pretty. If you look hard and long enough, I'm sure you'll be as pretty as me, don't worry Daph!"

Daphne didn't grimace. That wasn't what ladies did. She smiled away the comment. Taking back her gift she put it in her pocket. This was her gift. Daphne would never give it to Pansy ever again. Even if the girl begged.

One last time the train called for the latest passengers, and the two girls had to part ways with their families.

Her mother was busy in her conversation with Mrs Parkinson, but her father kissed the top of her head. That was exceptional. Her father had not done so since her birthday three months ago.

"Be my good girl, Daphne."

Daphne only nodded, a tiny smile on her face, because she knew she couldn't simply hug him.

Pansy grabbed her hand to drag her away, so Daphne ended up waving to Astoria, her father and mother.

Boarding the train, Daphne thought back to her mother's gift and father's kiss. This was a special day. A day to never forget.

* * *

"Is this all your parents gifted you?" asked Draco Malfoy. Daphne had not needed to spend an awful lot of time with him to know that he was an annoying boy. This wasn't how purebloods should be. He lacked respect, poise and dignity. He even talked stupid.

It has been becoming harder to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at Professor McGonagall's lessons, even. Draco's questions in the class were really that stupid. Well, at least Daphne was getting enough practice reigning herself in with Pansy.

It would be worse to be at the bad side of the Malfoys, anyway. Daphne knew her father would be proud of her if she and Draco could be somewhat friends.

"They gave that hideous mirror even before the Sorting," answered Pansy out of nowhere.

Did Pansy just say her mirror was hideous? This was the girl who secretly stole her mirror whenever Daphne wasn't around. The fellow Slytherin girl had even cracked the bottom mirror when she dropped it once Daphne caught her!

Liar, she wanted to yell.

"She never got anything else. Unlike this quill my mother's sent me. Look Draco, it corrects mistakes."

Daphne dismissed that previous detail but listening to the rest of what Pansy said made her blood boil. Daphne could easily tell Pansy that she wouldn't need a quill to correct herself since she wouldn't be making mistakes in the first place. Tell she did.

"I agree with Greengrass. Don't you know how to spell, Parkinson?" Draco sneered. Daphne haughtily smiled at that, maybe Draco wasn't half bad.

"Whatever!" Pansy shrieked. "Go ahead and look at how ugly you are, Daphne. That mirror doesn't have any magic to change that."

Oh, Daphne would not continue to stand there and listen to this. She was so angry! Enough that she wanted to scream- and that wasn't what purebloods did. Well-mannered purebloods, anyway. Pansy Parkinson was what Mother would call a disgrace.

Feeling the hot rage turn into tears, Daphne rushed between her classmates to get out of the classroom. They had been the last ones to leave, and Malfoy had caught her checking herself from her mirror.

She was stupid, too. Daphne shouldn't have gotten her mirror out.

Not minding where she went, Daphne ended up bumping into someone. Wiping away her tears, she mumbled a sorry.

It didn't matter that it was the famous boy from Gryffindor with whom she collided. The Harry Potter. Rather short for their age, with huge green eyes and crooked glasses. The scar on his forehead made up for his inadequate heritage, Daphne's father always mentioned.

Daphne didn't care about his status, though. It was her fault that she bumped into him so it was natural she said her sorry. If it were not out of courtesy, only then it would be inappropriate to talk to a lesser-born.

"It's fine," he said immediately. "Are you alright?"

Daphne didn't answer this time and fled. The tears wouldn't stop.

* * *

Daphne still couldn't find her mirror. She was in tears and desperately searching to find it. She had lost her mother last year. Daphne could not -would not- lose the only thing left from her.

It was nowhere. Not in her trunk, not in her bed, drawers, nowhere. Daphne could have sworn it was in her bag. She had taken the mirror out that one time in Lockhart's lesson to make sure she looked presentable to the handsome teacher.

Now the mirror was gone.

She couldn't find it nearly for two months, and she was crying all the time because she ended up apologizing to her late mother countless times before sleeping, but her pleas never brought back the mirror.

Always look perfect, and be perfect. Now Daphne could never achieve that.

What happened was that at the end of the year, Hermione Granger stopped Daphne to hand the mirror back to her. The Gryffindor mumbled something about the mirror saving her life, but Daphne couldn't care.

Daphne mutely took the heirloom and cried in front of the girl.

"I hate you," Daphne cried because she really did. How dare she steal what was hers? How dare she! Daphne had looked everywhere in her dorm. She had searched through the lost and found bin in Filch's office, even. Turns out Granger has stolen it.

But what should Daphne have expected from such a lowly born Mudblood, in end?

Daphne sniffed and tried to contain her tears. "I don't accept your apology, and if you ever come near me again, I will make you really sorry."

* * *

With how less she talked to her classmates, Daphne grew a habit of studying aloud, annoying Pansy as a bonus.

Even sitting by the Slytherin table during lunch, Daphne opened a book and studied aloud. It wasn't anywhere close to how obnoxious Hermione Granger recited answers to teachers; just enough for herself to hear. Maybe she should have gone for louder because this time the gossip of the escaped murderer, Sirius Black, was hot and wild over the Slytherin table.

How could it not be, since the said-name was the last heir to the noblest House of Black?

Daphne closed her book. She didn't want to waste any more time here, it was not like she could get any studying done. Pansy was clinging to the injured and cry-baby Malfoy (he was like that since the Buckbeak incident), Davis and Bulstrode were conversing Quidditch and the rest of the boys from her year were discussing Snape's latest assignment in DADA.

Out of habit, Daphne opened her mirror and checked herself. She had opted out of using colourful bows since the start of the second year, but she still braided a narrow strand and tied it with a deep green, very tiny bow. And as they were growing older, she had started applying light makeup that could pass by the notice of the teachers.

Nothing was out of place. Her cheeks were rosy, lips glossed and hair smooth. Smiling to herself, Daphne closed the mirror only to lock gazes with Potter.

He was over the Gryffindor table, sitting across Weasley. Their Muggleborn friend was nowhere to be seen, but Daphne wasn't surprised. It wasn't a secret the girl fought with the boys frequently, especially this year. It was a wonder how that lying little thief still had friends, even if they were the likes of Weasley and Potter.

What was more surprising now though was that Potter actually held Daphne's gaze.

He had been eating. His spoon rested frozen on his plate, and his glass of pumpkin juice stilled mid-air. Daphne raised her eyebrows out of curiosity what his reaction would be, but she chided herself for her ridiculous idea. She shied away and averted her gaze immediately but what was done was done.

When at last Daphne rose from her seat, she gave in and took a final glance back at Potter. He was blushing and poking Weasley for attention.

Daphne didn't wait to see Weasley turn and stare at her. She went to the library to get on with her school work, holding her mirror tightly in hand.

* * *

"Why do you look in the mirror so often?" came a question Daphne wasn't expecting. She was in the DADA classroom. A bit early for Mad-Eye Moody's lesson.

Daphne turned around to see Harry Potter. He casually dropped his bag and sat down. It was odd how easily he started this conversation. It wasn't like they were friends. And looking at him, who was now messing his hair in the name of taming it and correcting his glasses subsequently, Daphne couldn't fathom how he deemed it appropriate to show himself like this to the public.

"Maybe you should look in the mirror yourself," Daphne said. She was thankful that it didn't sound as hurtful as the words meant. She had intended it to be a suggestion, still she was harsh.

Faking to correct his tie, Potter grinned, gullibly believing a pure intention to what she said- even if it was true. "I try to. Sometimes. Whenever I'm left with time from the Tournament or other things."

At that, she raised her eyebrows. She doubted he cared how he looked.

"Fine. I used to check a mirror. Long, long time ago." Potter's confession brought a smile to her lips. It was always nice to be right. He continued with a smile of his own, "I don't understand why you do it. Obviously, I need it. Take Yule Ball for example, for that I cleaned up nicely. You, however, well, you… you look nice… you always do."

Potter blushed harder when he noticed she blushed too, which was so embarrassing because any sane person would have looked away. She should have looked away but she found herself akin to a deer caught in headlights. Harry Potter, who was actually quite cute that made up for his half breed, had just complimented her. That was… unexpected. And nice.

Not to mention, Daphne indeed remembered how noble and regal Harry looked in his wizarding robes during Yule Ball.

While struggling to find what to say, Moody barged in and saved Daphne the effort. Harry shot to his feet and went to the teacher.

He had come early to have a word with the professor in private, it seemed.

Daphne put away her mirror and dismissed the short exchange. Easier said than done, trutfully.

* * *

Everybody knew of Ginny Weasley's crush on Potter. So it took everyone by surprise when the ginger girl started seeing some other Gryffindor. Daphne hardly ever fell behind from gossip, and this one was new. It even overshadowed Ron Weasley's relationship with the Brown girl.

Daphne had always wondered whether Ginny Weasley's crush was ever reciprocated, but Daphne never could decide. Potter seemed busy this year, especially excelling at Potions under Slughorn's tutelage. However, last year there was Cho Chang, that everybody knew. But… well… the gossip that Harry Potter was actually in love with Ginny Weasley was not new, but it wasn't official either. He had taken Lovegood to the Slugh Party, afterall.

It was a wonder why the two weren't together yet.

What did Harry Potter see in those girls anyway? Maybe not Lovegood, since the Ravenclaw was more intimate with Longbottom, but Chang and Weasley were both Potter's clear interests. Again, what did he see in them?

Both had straight, shiny hair. A trait both girls had in common with Daphne, too. But aside from that, character-wise, unfortunately Weasley and Chang were polar opposites. Perhaps that's why Potter never went out with Weasley. Interest in Quidditch must not be his only criteria, contrary to popular belief.

Someone poked Daphne in the ribs, and she realised Tracy Davis was trying to grab her attention. Daphne blinked to the mirror she was holding in her hand and closed it. Funny, how she had been unseeing of her own reflection. That never happened.

"What?"

"Potter is looking this way again. It's odd, I tell you. I know we theorized he was onto Malfoy, but Malfoy isn't here. He is skipping dinner again."

Daphne found that Potter indeed looked their way. Their gazes locked once again over the tables but this time his rage had her gobsmacked. What was with him? Surely, he didn't think he would accomplish killing people with just looks. If that were the case, Malfoy would have been dead since the first semester. Potter had really been keeping tabs on the Malfoy heir. Potter was right to do so.

"Oh, there he is! Malfoy came. Maybe Potter was upset he couldn't stalk him," Tracy commented with a snort but Daphne didn't join.

Malfoy arriving here or not, Potter hadn't looked away. He looked at her.

"Hey, Daph?" Tracy brought Daphne out of her looking match with Potter. "You alright?"

Daphne mumbled some excuse but she wasn't fine, truthfully. This Christmas her Father had talked with her and Astoria. They would be going to Turkey at the end of this year. Fleeing, more like it. They had a summer house there, in a beautiful coast city called Izmir, but her Father was keen to actually use the summer house permanently. So Daphne had no choice but to drop out of school at the end of her sixth year.

Daphne glanced back at Potter but found him now distracted. She wondered. She couldn't help herself. She wondered what would happen when they got back if they did, or if they were to never leave in the first place.

But Daphne cut that line of thought before it even began. That was dangerous. Diggory's death had not been a child's game, nor would be whatever Potter was getting himself into. Daphne's Father would be strict of how their family would act, and she knew it would be in a way that they were in the safest possible situation.

Daphne put down her utensils and grabbed her bag. She should go and study, do something other than to think.

Hell was about to break loose, so maybe it was safer not to wonder. Maybe it was safer to forget about the cute boy she occasionally shared glances over dinner tables, who had also complimented her that one time. Yes, safer indeed. Safer not to think.

* * *

It shouldn't have been a surprise that the second-time saviour of the wizarding world, Harry Potter, was an item with Ginevra Weasley.

The Greengrasses had newly arrived back to England two years after the war, and they were very much forgotten and behind with everything else.

Not gossip, no.

In the newest Daily Prophet edition in which Daphne had skimmed over a horrifying and accusatory article over her family's whereabouts and doings, she had come across news of Harry and Ginny's engagement.

Daphne felt hollow. She shouldn't be surprised, should she?

Closing the paper, Daphne went to grab her bag. She checked herself in her mirror one last time, leaving it by the stand, she headed out. Nothing was over, she would start a new life.

* * *

At the second Anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Daphne felt out of place for attending to the gathering. The invitations had been sent to all the new graduates (Hogwarts had made an exception for her and let her take the N.E. eventually) and she had foolishly thought it to be a good chance to reintroduce herself into society. Daphne knew people from her Father's circles, but she had to be involved with her own generation as well.

It was an awfully rainy day for May second so the Great Hall had been prepared for this event. Daphne had been having small talk with Mandy Brocklehurst, her old friend from the same year but in Ravenclaw. They had lost contact, so it was indeed a favourable conversation.

"My parents were killed. It was a Death Eater and that werewolf, Greyback. He bit my little brother. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to save him and Disapparate. You see, it is actually my little brother who is the Gryffindor in the family."

Daphne smiled and nodded to Mandy's revelation. Favourable conversation, indeed.

"Me? We were away," Daphne answered to whoever had asked throughout the night. "Father had been called in for business in Turkey. We meant to stay in Istanbul, but the British Ministry sent an invitation for our return."

Her Father had been called in for interrogation. That was no secret. But Daphne didn't fancy going into details. Not to vultures anyway. Some were obnoxious too, asking about the state of their wealth.

Daphne had thought it wouldn't be worse. Then came the commemoration ceremony. Daphne had not known… she truly didn't… what this war stole from people.

Taking advantage of the dimmed lights, Daphne had walked away to the bathroom right after the ceremony. She could not contain her tears. When Cedric Diggory had died, it had been hard for her. He had been a boy whose presence, the lack of it, was immensely felt. It was so real, and painful even if she had been in another House and his junior. But now, there were other names that flashed in her mind. She knew them. She had shared classes with some of them.

Daphne doubted she could have been of any help to any of them, great Merlin!

She doubted that she would even be on the right side. Her Father had always been disinterested in politics and smart to not get involved. Staying and shutting their doors to everyone -to both sides- would have been what could have happened. Daphne didn't know whether she could have been brave enough to do otherwise.

Wiping away her tears, Daphne looked in the mirror of the bathroom. Her own mirror, the gift from her mother, was back at home. She hadn't carried it with her for months now.

Always look perfect, and be perfect.

She was never perfect, could never be perfect. Not that her perfection would have saved lives.

Maybe it could have.

Taking a tissue, she tried to manage her makeup. A few charms helped to get off the smudge but her eyes were puffed and her nose red. And truthfully, any woman would see through the mess of her makeup.

Daphne sighed and went back inside.

Mandy had switched to somewhere else, but thankfully the table was still empty. It was as if timed, and when she occupied a chair, another person came to accompany her.

Potter looked somewhat how she remembered him. Messy hair, though much longer now, round glasses and sparkling green eyes. What Ginny Weasley called it? Pickle coloured, or something.

Daphne found herself grimacing at the memory, at least the two had found their love.

"Hey, you," said Potter quiet uncharacteristically as if they were friends. Her surprise must have shown through as he blushed. It made her aware how sharp and well-defined his features were, especially his cheekbones. "I mean, hi. It's good to see you again."

"Good to see you as well, Potter." Honestly, she didn't know what to say.

"Harry please." he corrected. She nodded. "It must be chaos or miracle, whichever way you see it, but you don't have your mirror. Not checking yourself anymore?"

Daphne blinked, but when Potter -Harry- faintly brushed the side of his eyes, her hands shot to cover her own eyes. She had thought her makeup had looked fine!

"Oh, it's just-"

"It's alright. You look nice like you always do." Harry grinned. "I always wondered about your obsession with that mirror. Say what, was it magical? I mean, I had a magical mirror myself that connected me to someone else. It really helped with the war."

Daphne noticed the slight blush spreading around Potter's neck and it caused her to blush, too. Again.

"Well, no. Nothing like that. It was a gift. My Mother gave it one year before she passed away. I cherish it."

That was a mood killer to any conversation, and Daphne saw clearly when Potter's face fell and he struggled to maintain some composure.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. I'm sorry for your losses as well. I knew you were close with…" Daphne didn't know what to say. Whom to count. Nearly all the names were Harry Potter's close friends.

Having noticed the reason for her hesitation, Potter nodded and replied with a raspy voice, "Thank you."

A moment passed when neither looked at each other.

"I always thought something was up with that mirror of yours," Potter commented back to their earlier topic awkwardly. Another pause. "Can I share something with you?"

Daphne didn't know what to say. It was always better to say nothing, but Potter seemed to expect an answer. His emerald eyes were so focused and determined that it took her breath away.

"Yes, of course," Daphne found herself saying. She knew then that it was rather easy to accept whatever Harry Potter would ask of her. Was this his natural leadership everyone talked about?

"I…" He tried again. "Ginny's pregnant."

Daphne's eyes popped open in shock. Why was he telling her this? As her heart broke into pieces and heat threatened to burn and swallow her up whole, Daphne struggled to keep her composure. Why her? Why tell that? She knew the two were engaged!

Harry Potter couldn't be cruel, could he? Sure, she had not always been an open book, but her old crush on the young man who sat across her now had always been clear. Had it been, though? He probably didn't know, she thought. How could he? Her feelings for him were most of the time nothing more than a fleeting fancy.

And Daphne had to admit, if Potter really wanted to be cruel relaying that his fiance was pregnant, this must be his way of boosting and rubbing to the 'Death Eater side' that he was perfectly happy, healthy and with family. It was absurd.

Why share something so private with her of all people to begin with? And at a memorial day, no less!

"Congratulations?" Daphne cringed. If she needed another proof that she wasn't perfect, this was it.

Funnily, Potter cringed as well. So it did sound as awful as Daphne guessed.

"She can thank you herself," Potter quickly replied to which Daphne was surprised to hear the resentment in his voice. Potter looked away. Silence was achieved through his hard effort if the iron clench of his jaw and the prominent pulsating vein over the side of his neck were anything to go by.

Daphne didn't know what to think. Harry was upset, angry, and here he sat across from her. This whole setup was just… not what she expected when she had wanted to mingle with her generation.

Potter sharply turned back to look at her.

Thunders flashing in his eyes, he spit out, "The thing is… Daphne, it's not mine, the baby. And I don't know what to do."

Daphne had never received a stupefy to her head, but this must be what it felt like. She just didn't know what to say…

Ginny Weasley was cheating on Harry Potter? An act that could endanger their union! In any Pureblood family even if a marriage contract was not yet finalized, it would have been scandalous to back down from a spoken promise. It was downright shocking that there was a baby, too. Bearing the firstborn to a House was pride in their culture, but it was equally if not more important for the female to have her first child to the House she was marrying into.

Commitment, Daphne had later learned, was not as religiously abided by the purebloods as they viewed their duty to marriage.

And the duty of a pureblood woman specifically, if she was promised to marry to a noble House, was to bear her first child and eventually the heir to the House for the continuation of the line. Afterwards did come the rest of her duties to be an exemplary pureblood witch, mother and wife.

This situation was contradiction to Daphne's upbringing. Everything about it was wrong.

"Why are you telling me this?" Daphne shot all of a sudden. This was absurd. Why would she want to be a part of this? Except, to get a chance with Harry, whispered a treacherous side of her. She shouldn't be thinking like this, but Salazar forgive her, she wasn't above thinking exactly that.

Why would Harry come to her and reveal all this? What did he even expect?

"You know, I always blamed that mirror of yours," Potter said cryptically instead. "Magical or not, it always drew my attention to you. I just noticed. Noticed the little things… How you changed your hair in the third year, wore earrings and how you secretly checked your teeth."

Potter's smile vanished as he shook his head. "I can't think of anyone who can help me, or talk to, about this." Potter vaguely moved his hand to emphasize the last part. Only after messing his hair again, he added, "Tonight when I saw you, well… I know you haven't been around. You are practically a stranger to everything, but I thought I could…. I thought I could tell you this. You are the only one who knows. I can't tell… well... just… please, Daphne? I know you're not half bad."

Daphne furrowed her brows but that last part Potter muttered was accompanied by a blush.

"Potter, this is really-"

They weren't friends. They had never been friends. Daphne Greengrass was the girl who had dropped out of Hogwarts when the war had come. If she was sure about one thing, forget her past and feelings, she knew that she could never understand someone like Harry Potter. Or anyone who survived the Wizarding war, for that matter.

"Daphne, please." And here that Harry Potter was. Pleading her to listen to him. Help him. Support him.

About his mess of a relationship.

She sighed and glanced back at his pleading eyes. Oh, she was getting herself into a huge mess.

Be perfect, her arse. Daphne Greengrass was _simply_ daft.


End file.
